Six Years Apart
by Iapetus
Summary: Nathaniel and Anders steal away for a few moments while in the Deep Roads after the darkspawn are cleared out.  It has been a long six years.


"You look like the next Hero of Ferelden in this," Anders said." His hands were on Nathaniel, tracing the wings of the griffon on his chest. "You make it look good. Dashing, like out of one of Varric's stories."

"Anders, I'm splattered with darkspawn gore," Nathaniel said. They had cleaned up the best they could, but nothing would be able to rival a proper bath when they returned to the surface. In his opinion, the most important parts had been taken care of. Anders avoided the blood when he could on the armor, and his fingers worked their way up to Nathaniel's neck.

They were far enough away from the others so that they couldn't be heard, as long as they were quiet. Very quiet. The caverns had a way of echoing that would make Nathaniel blush to think about.

The mage wrapped his other arm around the rogue's waist and drew him close. "You're a Warden," he said, whispering in Nathaniel's ear, "it adds to the drama." Both armor and robes were in about the same state of cleanliness, and Anders didn't seem to care.

The darkspawn were gone for now, thanks to Hawke and his companions, and the only thing his mind could sense was the presence of another Warden. For a moment Nathaniel couldn't move, didn't want to move, almost overwhelmed by the sensation of Anders being so close, both in body and in mind.

"It's good to see you," he said finally, which was an understatement. Anders kissed him below his ear, and Nathaniel took in a sharp breath.

"We haven't seen each other in six years and _that's_ what you say?" Nathaniel found his back pressed against the wall of the cavern, Anders mouthing the line of his jaw down to his chin. "Really, Nathaniel," he stopped to brush his lips just below his cheek along the way, "I know you don't mince words but I was expecting something better than _that_."

Nathaniel's fingers weaved into Anders' hair, slightly restricted by what was tied back, and pulled on Anders' head to guide their lips together. It was the simplest of brushes as he spoke. "It's the truth."

Anders made a small noise of approval, conceding the point. His grip on Nathaniel tightened as he made the contact a proper kiss. It began as something soft, something for them both to savor.

Nathaniel was surprised that he was capable of such things in that moment. It had been a long six years, Anders absence weighing heavily on his mind but not the only thing that troubled him. Six years since that night Anders had come to say goodbye, their first night together and they had thought their last. There had been a pang in his heart when Nathaniel knew that Anders was going somewhere where he could not follow.

But the Maker was not cruel, not in this, though it was a highly inappropriate place for a reunion. Or perhaps it was the most fitting place of all, for two Grey Wardens to find each other after so long, in the belly of Thedas. The Wardens and the Deep Roads were two sides to the same sovereign, and not even Anders could escape that.

Thank the Maker that he hadn't. It had saved Nathaniel's life.

He nipped at Anders' lip before opening his own as way of invitation. They couldn't be certain how much time they would have together; they would have to tread the line of need and necessity carefully. Neither wanted to rush this, but they might have to.

Then Anders brushed his tongue against Nathaniel's and thought became difficult. Nathaniel's grip in Anders' hair tightened, and then their bodies were flush against each other. The rogue was already cursing his armor, his body rapidly heating, knowing that there would be no easy way to do this.

Then it was Nathaniel's turn to follow the line of jaw, enjoying the feel of Anders' stubble against his swollen lips. Anders tilted his head back when those lips met his neck, and Nathaniel had to fool with the buckle of the coat before gaining full access.

He trailed down a series of small bites, each one becoming a little bit harder as they progressed. Nathaniel paused for a brief moment, his face nestled in the crook of Anders' neck, and placed a kiss against the pulse.

"Getting sentimental, are you?" Anders asked, and Nathaniel could _hear_ the smirk in his voice. It was good to know that some things didn't change. He responded by biting down, and Anders managed groan and laugh at the same time.

"It's been too long," Nathaniel whispered. Too long since he heard any word of Anders' safety, too long since _this_ - they had been fools to wait and confess their feelings until the night Anders left.

"I know," Anders said, his hand cupping the base of Nathaniel's head, holding him in place, encouraging him to continue. "Not the same without you around."

For a brief moment, Nathaniel cursed the duty that separated them. But this was not the time to dwell on it, not with Anders in his arms. "I've missed you too," he said.

They continued like that for Nathaniel didn't know how long, with Anders soft moans in his ears. Their hands roamed the best they could through armor and fabric, and Nathaniel dearly wished that they had somewhere with more privacy. The robes Anders wore were not the Tevinter ones he was used to seeing - and while he fleetingly thought that Anders looked handsome in the black, he would rather see skin.

Fingers ran along the leather belt, stopping at the buckle to linger for a moment before working to loosen it. This much, Nathaniel would allow. Anders pulled away only enough to work with it, the thick leather being all the more stubborn when worked by hands clumsy with want. As he worked, Nathaniel eyed the mage's robes and mused on how best to undo what was needed.

When the belt was finally free, Anders let it and the armor it held in place drop to the ground. Now it would be a simple matter of pushing fabric out of the way, but Nathaniel thought it a wise idea to get Anders to a similar point of dress. Otherwise, he would become distracted much too quickly.

Nathaniel moved his hand down the front of Anders' coat, playing at the rings, looking for the fastens that would give them more freedom of movement. He found it just as Anders' hand reached to help, and the touch of skin on skin was electric. Anders chuckled, and soon the rings that held his coat together were no longer an issue.

Wasting no time, Nathaniel pushed his hand past the coat and fabric to find the drawstring he had so dearly wanted access to. Before he started to work on it, he cupped his hand against Anders' groin, enjoying the way his arousal was restricted by the fabric and that he was the cause. This time it was Anders turn to moan, loudly, Nathaniel silenced him with a kiss.

Maker, how he wanted to hear Anders. It was a cruel thing, to have so little privacy, but the kisses made up for a bit of that. One of his hands joined Nathaniel's to help undo his breeches. When the tension of the strings gave way, Nathaniel pulled the mage's arousal out and gave it a firm stroke.

Anders cried out, breaking the kiss as he did so. He almost whimpered when Nathaniel rubbed the pad of of his thumb against his sensitive tip, and amazingly managed to pull away. "No," he said breathlessly, the curl of a smirk at the corner of his lips, "no more until I have you too."

His fingers were no where near as nimble as the rogue's, but he fared better than he had with the belt. Now it was Anders who leaned in, moving to suck on Nathaniel's earlobe. With his touch so close, Nathaniel grew more impatient by the moment. This did not fail to pass Anders' notice.

Finally his own arousal was freed, and both men took each other in hand. The sight of one another was obstructed by fabric, so Nathaniel relied on touches, on sounds. Those would follow him best in dreams later.

Too many nights Nathaniel had taken himself in hand, wishing it was Anders touch and not his own. He had almost forgotten what it was like. He was used to callouses on the hands, but Anders had them from wielding a stave, which were much different than an archer's.

Where Nathaniel's grip was firm and and rough, Anders' light and playful. And unpredictable, which Nathaniel loved, though he would never say that out loud.

"The others will hear you, Mage," Nathaniel whispered. He eased up on the strokes only a little, and as if to protest, Anders sped the pace of his own up. Nathaniel swallowed hard.

"Don't care about that," Anders said. "Do you?"

Usually, Nathaniel was the sort that would, but he was leaving the Free Marches soon and Maker knew when he'd be back to Kirkwall again. Or see Anders. "No," he managed, "not really."

.

Some distance away, Varric sat by the small fire Hawke had built, reading over what he had written of the journey and considering how to weave the story together to tell later. When he heard a loud cry from the direction that Blondie and that other Warden went in, he smirked and scribbled down a few more notes.

* * *

><p>Comments and constructive criticism always welcomed. Thank you for reading!<p> 


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